


Checking Up

by Nikolai_Alexi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers, marvel movies
Genre: "are you even surprised anymore director? It's Barton.", "coulson he waltzed with the black widow and didn't even care.", Clint is a possessive mofo, Clint really loves Nat, Other, They love each other, anyway clint's a bean, but like as a brother, but so is nat, its all they got, like...Clint what situations do you manage to get yourself into?, phil coulson is hopelessly in love with Clint and just generally accepts whatever at this point, theres also!! Cuddling!! Nat and Clint! Need! Comfort! Too!, theyre adorable tbh, theyre family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 21:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Alexi/pseuds/Nikolai_Alexi
Summary: He hasn't seen her since he joined SHIELD.Then, like she hears his heart mourning for her, she appears at one of his ops.It's only her hard-earned trust in him that lets him keep her safe from SHIELD that night.It's his hard-earned trust in her that leads her to call him for a rescue and recruitment mission seven months later.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time he sees her after he's recruited takes him by complete surprise. He's not expecting her to be here, and perhaps that's his first mistake.

He's at a gala with Coulson, May, and an agent he doesn't really know Talia Fox. They have a rather low level target swimming around here and for the moments it's purely a surveillance op. Everything is going well for them, which is an awesome change of pace. He and Agent Fox are dancing in a slow, looping waltz, taking in all of the room, its weaknesses, exits, entries, and locating their target. Then he sees her.

He fights his reaction to lock up and run to her. To sweep her away and hide her from them. He never claimed not to be possessive. She meets his eyes and her eyes tell him that she's fighting the same thing.

He prays with every bit of his being he'll be able to at least touch her. Just once, to make sure she's real.

It seems like forever before he gets his chance.

“Everyone is switching partners. Cut in somewhere.” Coulson's sharp voice sounds in his ear. He has never been more willing to follow an order before. They lock eyes and maneuver themselves into a spot where they can cut in.

It works perfectly, like always.

She slithers her way up his body and loops her deceptively dainty arms around his neck. He doesn't forget for one second that she could break his neck so easily like this. It puts a familiar feeling of warmth in the pit of his stomach.

“Finally. Someone who can dance.” Her thick accent makes gooseflesh rise on his arms and she grins. It's sharp and predatory. He loves it.

“I can assure you, I won't step on your toes. As for the rest of it…” It's an old joke between them. He really can dance, but that's only because she taught him. She'd threatened to shoot him in the kneecap every time he stepped on her feet. After he found out she actually would he never did it again.

“A welcome change, I assure you.” She purrs. He chuckles, low in his throat. 

“So what's your name, doll?” He drawls. He sees the fire in her eyes at the nickname. She purposely steps on his toes with her heel as he spins her. He chuckles again.

“Nevaeh Rhodes. And you, Tall, Dark, and Handsome?” Clint nearly laughs out loud. She was laying it on thick.

“Cameron Brooks. You here alone?” He tries to make his voice sound as convincing as possible. He knows she's here alone, he also knows that if she says so, it would be highly suspicious to the three other agents in his ear. He tries to tell her with his eyes.

She raises her chin defiantly, “What? Think a spoiled little rich girl can't take care of herself on her own?”

He laughs. Truly laughs. And she glares, “Something funny?” She snaps.

Her voice is pitched perfectly for the snotty rich girl she's playing tonight. She's making sure her every word is transmitted to the three silent agents who are listening to him flirt with a girl who is more his sister than anyone else in the world.

“Nuthin’, sweetheart. Nuthin’ at all. Just reminded me of somebody. I know you could hold your own.” That was one of their signals. _You need to get out of here._

He feels her stiffen minutely and she cocks her head gently, “Oh really? Or you just saying that?” _Why? What's going on?_

“No, I believe you. I don't know about you, but I tend not to test my waters when it comes to people I know that will kick my ass. Pardon my language.” _I can't tell you, but I'm okay. Listen to me._

“Please. A little language is the least of my worries.” _I don't like this. But I trust you._

“I'm southern raised, blame the blood.” _I know. I'm sorry._

“Oh? Where down south?” _Can you come find me? I need to know._

“Louisiana. I know, it's hick country.” _Possibly. I'll keep in touch._

“Well then. It's amazing what can happen when you get in with the right people.” _You'd better._

“I suppose.” _Goodbye._

An older man with a disturbing sparkle in his eyes cuts in as Clint spins Natasha away. She glares harshly over the man’s shoulder as he begins dancing again with Talia as seamlessly as ever. He smirks at her but doesn't risk anything else.

“What the fuck was that, Barton?” Fox hisses in his empty ear.

“Fitting in, Fox.” He snaps back. He spins her effortlessly, forgetting for a minute that she's not Natasha and can't dance to save her life. She doesn't stumble, but it's enough to make a few couples look at them.

“Barton. Fox. Trade with me and May. Start bickering and I'll leave you here.” Phil snaps quietly over the coms.

Phil cuts in effortlessly and hands May off to Clint. May glares at him at first before realising that he can actually dance, contrary to popular belief, and begins to relax and dance. They don't talk as they dance and it allows Clint to track Natasha around the room. She leaves just before they get ready to approach their target.

She catches his eye as she escapes, flashes the inside of her wrist and rests four fingers on her pale skin. It's a quick change from four fingers to a fist, to five and her opposite thumb sticking out. Then she hold up seven fingers then three. She was giving coordinates to her safe house. Bed Stuy. He nods as discreetly as possible. Using the motion to flick hair out of his eyes. He can't get away with too much when dancing with May. Natasha slips out the door without a single eye trained on her. Clint relaxes slightly. 

“Who is she?” May mumbles in his ear. He knows he's been caught, so he says the only thing he can.

“Family.” May glares at him and he prays she gets out of here in time and changes her look. He knows she probably will. He's still worried.

“You don't have any sisters.” Phil points out on the other end of the comm.

Clint doesn't reply. Phil knows better to push. It's long minutes of silence before Phil calls to move in on the target. The older man he let cut in on Natasha. 

They make quick work of the target. Agent Fox distracts him and lures him into a private room where Phil takes him out. May disables the security system long enough for them to put the body in a body bag and sneak it out the window. They split up.

May and Clint ditch the body where other SHIELD agents are waiting on the perimeter and meet up with Phil and Fox a few blocks away from where the gala was hosted. 

They get back to SHIELD HQ and clean up before debriefing. Clint knows that Phil and May want to interrogate him about her, but Phil knows he won't give anything up until he's ready. 

After debriefing, he makes himself scarce. 

He gets to her apartment in Bed Stuy before she does, which tells him all he need to know.

He stays in the kitchen until she walks in. 

“I told you I was okay, Tash.” She doesn't respond and instead wraps her arms gently around his waist. He loops his around her shoulders and drops his face in her hair. It smells like fresh hair dye, cocoa butter, and coconut. 

They stand there for a long time, completely silent and basking in the orange glow of the sunset outside Natasha's window. 

Eventually she detaches herself from him and he doesn't comment on her wet eyes. He glides into the kitchen and begins to make something for them to eat because he knows she can't cook much of anything, and she looks like she hasn't had a warm meal in way too long.

He makes fettuccine alfredo and chicken for them both and turns Dog Cops on her shitty TV before guiding her to the gaudy purple couch in the middle of her living room. He bundles her up in a soft, down blanket and they sit together long after they finish their dinners.

He merely runs his hand through her mouse brown locks, soothing her to sleep and letting her keep a death grip on his wrist. He knows he'll have a bruise tomorrow, but he can't bring himself to care. She's much more important than his reputation.

He carries her to bed after she falls asleep and it speaks of unyielding trust that she doesn't stir as he carries her. 

They spend the night in a tangle of limbs that have no definable start or end. He knows that it must look like something other than the friendship that they have, but he's all she has and she's all he needs. 

They never worked as lovers, but they'll always be more than friends.

He slips away early into the morning and leaves a note written in her native tongue, _My offer is always open, just call and I'll come get you. Any time, any place, I'll have your back._

He leaves his SHIELD phone number and slips away into the shadows.

It must show somehow in his face the next day, because people only talk to him when they absolutely have to. He can't do anything but wait and see if she takes him up on his offer. It feels like he's being ripped in half.

The call comes in seven months later.

He's in the middle of a conversation with the Director and Deputy Director. He drops everything. There's only one person in the world who has his number but he doesn't have her’s.

“Budapest.” Is the only thing she says before she hangs up. His stomach drops.

“Fuck.” He curses. He makes his excuses and takes off for Phil's office. The senior agent is skeptical, but he trusts Clint and readies a jet immediately while Clint packs for both of them. He's always carried one of her extra go-bags in addition to his own.

They arrive in Budapest in six hours. He's never been more thankful for SHIELD jets. He immediately sees tatters of clothes and bloodstains. Some of it is her’s. She's been captured. 

He tracks her down within hours. Coulson wants intel but there's not much Clint can give him until he finds her.

“HYDRA.” Clint snarls. He hears Coulson's momentary pause.

“You're going in.” Coulson says. It's not a question because he already knows the answer.

“This is more important than anything else, Coulson. I'm going in and I'm coming back out. I'll keep you updated.”

It's an intense battle. He's battered and broken by the time he finds her and she looks worse. Her eyes light up though, and he knows she's okay.

“C’mon. Let's blow this popsicle stand.” He snarls. She's half laying on him as they drag themselves out of the base, planting her explosives as they go. They're almost back to the jet when she hands him the detonator. His grin is bloodstained and evil as he pushes the button and basks in the concussive blast. Coulson is waiting for him on the cargo ramp. His eyes widen just a fraction of an inch when he sees who Clint has in his arms.

“Black Widow.” Coulson says. Clint snarls deep in his chest.

“Tasha.” And just like that, Coulson nods points to a bed and grabs the first aid kit.

Just like that, Phil Coulson accepts the Black Widow into his life and it's never the same again.

Just like that, Natalia Romanova accepts a new family.

Just like that, Clint Barton accepts that his own family is complete.

Nick Fury took a little more convincing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha spar in public for the first time.

They’re wrapped up together on Coulson’s couch when the Director slams through the door. Natasha jumps like a frightened cat and has a nine millimeter leveled on the Director’s head in less than a second. He’s not even phased.

“Put it away, Romanov. The quicker you get used to that, the more inclined I am to not kill you.”

Clint feels the amused snort that she wants to release. _As if you could actually kill me, Director._ when the hell this became a thing and why I wasn’t informed?!” The Director sounds like a high school girl gossiping about why her friend never told her when she started dating the star quarterback.

“Are you really surprised, Director? After all, we’re talking about Barton.” Coulson’s eyes are sparkling with mischief that intrigue Natasha. She begins to study the interaction more thoroughly. 

“At this point, I shouldn’t be, but I’m still concerned how the oaf of your archer managed to keep it a secret that he’s fucking the Black fucking Widow.”

Before Coulson can respond, Clint is on his feet and in the Director’s face. 

“First of all, I’m a former merc. I can keep a goddamn secret. And kill you. Second of all, ew. Not fucking my best friend-more-like-sister, thanks. As attractive as she is, not my type. And third, her fucking code isn’t all she is, Fury. She’s a fucking person. Treat her like one.” Clint is sneering towards the end of his tirade. The Director looks like he’s going to pop a blood vessel.

“Mind your place, Barton.” The Director puffs himself up in an attempt to intimidate Clint. Clint doesn’t so much as blink.

“I am.” The Director, Natasha, and Coulson all take a mental step back at the vehemence in Clint’s voice. No one mistakes what he means. The Director glowers darkly.

“Control your agent, Coulson. Or I’ll throw him back on the streets where we found him.”

“It’ll take more than that to dispose of me, Director Fury. Getting rid of me will just make me more of a thorn in your side.”

“Then I’ll extinguish the threat.”

“Yes, because that worked so well the first time. You do know what the definition of insanity is, don’t you, Director? Maybe you ought to go down to the psych ward and get that checked out.”

Before anyone can respond, Coulson speaks up, “Barton. That’s enough. Hold your tongue.”  
Natasha notices the soft, calm tone that Coulson uses to issue the order. She also notices the way Clint reacts. The line of his shoulders, previously defensive and aggressive, relaxes and softens. He halts his verbal assault on the retreating Director’s back immediately. In all her years of knowing him, she’s never seen Clint so willingly obey an order.

“Yes, sir.”

And oh, isn’t that an interesting development? Clinton Francis Barton. Giving a superior an honorific? That’s about as likely as a polar bear surviving in the Sahara. Oh, this is interesting indeed.

Clint returns to the couch and maneuvers himself behind Natasha once more. He drops his head onto her shoulder and touches his nose to her neck. She sighs gently and begins to run her nails lightly over his scalp. 

Clint could be finicky with human contact sometimes, so it’s not a surprise when he jumps and stiffens for a moment before melting like butter under her hand. She glances through her eyelashes to see Coulson staring curiously at the two. She looks at him dead on and hopes to communicate that he ought to instigate some sort of contact between the two of them.

“Barton,” There’s the soft voice again, “As much as you and I both hate it, we need some history documentation.”

Clint groans, but doesn’t move from his spot on Natasha’s shoulder, “If Nat’s okay with it, I’ll give a brief overview of how we know each other, but that’s all they’re getting.”

“Miss Romanov? Your thoughts?”

She pauses her motion to think. Clint bumps her neck with his nose in protest. Her mouth quirks just a fraction of an inch in fond amusement for her friend, “I am agreeable to a brief overview.”

“Very well, thank you. Barton, when you’re ready.” 

Clint sighs, but begins speaking even though his face is still buried in Natasha’s neck, “We met shortly after the last time I was brought back to the group home. Barney and I weren’t speaking to each other and I was just starting to get into the deep dark. I met her on an op that went to hell before I even got there.”

“We hated each other at first. Probably tried to kill each other more than once.” Before Clint continues, Natasha butts in with a quiet, “Four hundred and seventy-seven times.”

Clint chuckles, “Didn’t you stab me and puncture my lung the 309th? I thought you’d actually won that time. Man, I was pissed.”  
“Da. And you were a baby about the entire recovery.”

“Have you met me, Nat? I’m a baby about most things.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I feel like I should be offended because I don’t know if you’re talking about meeting me or the fact that I’m a baby about most things.”

“Both.”

“Consider me offended, медвежонок.”

Natasha sees the very faint startle Coulson gives at Clint’s use of her nickname. She assumes it’s the first time he’s heard Clint speak in her tongue.

“But we met on an op that went south and kept running into each other. Most the time it ended up in us trying to kill each other for killing the other’s mark, but we could never kill each other and it became a game. We lost contact for a couple years, but she found me at the circus one day and somehow between me running and getting way involved in the underworld, we moved into safe houses together and then began sharing jobs and splitting pay. After I joined SHIELD, we kept brief contact, but I hadn’t seen her. The op we were on with Fox and May for the “retired” HYDRA agent, she was there and I reinstated contact. She called from Budapest and I went.”

Coulson’s pen scratches against the paper for a few moments more before he lays it down. He levels the two agents on Clint’s couch (yes, it’s clint’s, he’s given up on calling it his since he’s never used it from himself, it’s bright purple, and he only ever got it for clint in the first place) with a gentle look. 

“There’s going to be a lot of paperwork, patience, and cleverness involved in getting you authorized as a SHIELD agent Miss Romanov.”

She doesn’t say anything for long moments, instead of looking at Coulson seriously, she curses Clint for bringing out her reckless streak, “Natasha will do just fine.” 

Clint’s head snaps up, “Not fair! He gets to call you Natasha after a week of knowing you? Two days of which you were sedated in medical! It took you months to let me! Why him?”

Trust Clint to be a baby. Natasha laughs silently in her head, “Because he’s not an idiot unlike a certain bird I know, маленький ястреб.”

“You’re so mean to me, Nat-Nat.”

Natasha pinches his side...hard.

* * *

It’s weeks of acquisition forms, weapons evaluations, fittings, physical evaluations, psych evaluations, appointments and general paperwork before Natasha finally is able to go to her testing. Which as Clint describes as “a waste of time test that literally just determines how dumb you are and how much of a brute you are”. 

Natasha passes the practical portion flawlessly. And she does moderately well on the academic portion. She speaks with an HR agent about enrolling in classes to up her proficiency. 

Coulson brings her two massive duffle bags filled to the brim with clothes, toiletries, and staple food items. He has a junior agent in tow with a large box as well. It contains things like books and a laptop. She wonders how he got ahold of some of the books he brought her. She wants to thank him, but she doesn’t know how. So naturally, she goes to Clint.

“Coulson’s funny about thanks. Don’t go straight up to him. He’ll never do anything like that again. Come on, I’ll show you how to do it.”

They leave the headquarters, Natasha is a specialist now and can come and go as she pleases with the exception of an emergency, and head to a small hole in the wall shop.

“The key to Coulson’s heart. Tea and donuts.”

She leaves a canister of loose leaf tea and a package of donuts on his desk while he’s out of his office with a post it. She says nothing on the post-it but simply leaves her first initial and leaves. The small not-a-smile-smile he gives her later that day tells her it’s been well received. She feels irrationally proud of herself.

* * *

It’s close to a year before Clint and Natasha spar together. In public, that is. Coulson has seen them spar a couple of times, but other than that, no one at SHIELD has seen them in action. 

Coulson has learned to read them so well that he knows what’s going on before they even step towards the mat. He shakes his head gently. The agents here were in for a surprise.

The two step silently onto the opposite ends of the mat, “Care for a match, маленький ястреб?”

Clint’s grin is positively predatory, “Do you need to ask?”

“Call the boundaries.”  
“Death, permanent injury, involvement of others, and extended medical stay.”

“Fair?” Natasha basks in the light of Clint’s multi-coloured eyes. It’s pure excitement.

“Hell no.”

There are no other words spoken after that. 

They circle each other. Each is focused on their target. They know each other’s tells so well that anytime one goes to launch an attack, the other moves into position to block it. Finally, Natasha feints to the right and goes for Clint’s left. It’s a mistake, because Clint is unbelievably fast, especially to his left, but he wasn’t expecting it.

She doesn’t get a hit in, but it’s close enough. Clint was taken off guard. 

He retaliates by elbowing her in the back as he spins around her to avoid her punch. The elbow to the back would have sent a normal agent to their knees, but Natasha barely stumbles.

They’re a flurry of elbows, arms, legs, punches, jabs, feints, trips, and eventually knives. 

Natasha is the first to draw her’s. Clint managed to knock her away and she’d had to roll to keep her balance. She stalks like a hungry cat with her daggers in hand. Her attack is a blur, but when she retreats, there’s a thin line of blood on Clint’s cheek. 

His smile widens. 

From there, the match literally turns into something of a mini bloodbath. 

It ends with a desperate scramble to pin each other to the mat and a soft spoken, “Agents. That’s quite enough.” From Coulson.

Clint rolls to his feet and reaches down to give Natasha a hand up. They’re both breathing hard and have blood and sweat mixing together. New bruises are beginning to surface and blood is drying.

“Go get cleaned up and you two can hang out in my office.”

Two “Yes, sir.”s echo that statement. 

Agents clear out of their path as though they were carrying machine guns. Most are pale and a little bit sick to their stomachs. Clint and Natasha bask in it. They strut through the gym to get to the showers. They can hear the whispers going around already and they’ve stated their claim on SHIELD. There was no way Fury was getting this back under control.   
After the last of the blood and sweat spiraled down their separate drains, Clint and Natasha meet in the hallway in front of Coulson’s office. 

They both immediately dive-bomb their couch and listen to the hypnotising sound of Coulson’s clicking keyboard. They’re both dozing in minutes. Phil locks the door and goes back to his paperwork.

Paperwork that promotes him to a level seven agent and the handler of one Strike Team Delta featuring two rogue assassins and himself. He hadn’t been this excited to do paperwork in years.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping assassins, they were about to make history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo Strike Team Delta...what do y'all think about that? What crazy shit do you wanna see these three get into? Message your suggestions to me at nikolai_alexi on tumblr! I also do story requests for one-shots and stuff!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed that! I attempted to write something short and cute and kinda failed at the short, but hey, it's okay. I think I'm gonna make this a multi chapter one shot/short. Whatcha think? You wanna see Fury's reaction and Natasha's funny way of asking/receiving/accepting help? Come bother me on tumblr at [Nikolai Alexi](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nikolai-alexi). I take requests for short stories and other random shit.


End file.
